Besides the obvious appeal to millennials who love the film but were too young to have seen it on the big screen (RT if you were closer to Cora’s age than Rose’s), is just a phenomenal movie. If you disagree with me, I’ll direct you to the 11 Academy Awards and the $2.2 billion it’s made since being released. Depending on how many people buy tickets for the re-release, could beat as the highest grossing film of all time. That’s great and all, but I just really need more screen time for the vastly underrated third class Irishman Jack is friends with.
Anyway, to celebrate the movie event of 2017 (sorry, ) and the film that has given more to pop culture than the entire Kardashian-Jenner family, here is an honest re-telling of .
is all about a cruise full of rich British people coming to America to spread teatime and eccentric hats. And though this cruise also brought some povos, that problem was solved when they hit an iceberg and oops, we only brought enough lifeboats for the rich people! Like a 1912 version of Occupy Wall Street, the poor bros on the ship refused to shut the fuck up and had to annoy the rich people into giving them life vests, despite the very generous offer to have violins playing while they drowned.
Let’s talk about Rose. During this four hour film she sports no less than six different last names, but she starts off the movie not as a betch, but as a boring bitch. Aside from being named Rose after like, everybody’s great-grandma, she’s also from the unbetchy city of Philadelphia and only marrying control freak Billy Zane because she’s in debt. Technically, this makes her even more poor than Jack, but she’s not into Billy no matter how many heart necklaces he gives her. Your standard betch would’ve gone for fuckboy Zane and wouldn’t really be into the whole idea of “spitting really far” as a fun date. Also, no betch would be that good with an axe.
And come on, you dropped the Heart of the Ocean necklace off the dock? Are you dumb?! Do you know how many Birkins you can buy with that thing? Probably one, but still. We know because we’ve seen on those infomercials that you can get it in 45 installments of $22.99, so it’s clearly very elite and expensive.
But Rose’s inner betch emerges, starting with her overdramatic suicide attempt. Like, chill attention whore, there’s no way you’re gonna do it, there’s three hours of movie left! Some time around the two hour mark she perfects dressing like a slut in expensive jewelry, and by the end she’s completely turned, letting Jack die while she takes a snooze on her little raft. Like what, they couldn’t switch off? Bitch couldn’t give it to him for like, a minute and a half? When she said never let go, she meant as long as her fingers were toasty.
Anyway, R and J’s five day affair has since been named the most romantic movie of like, life. But it’s interesting to us that everyone seems to think that Jack is all perfect because he’s really hot, good in bed, and a nice guy with a soul. Au contraire losers, don’t be fooled by his shitty clothes and artsy charcoal sketches. Jack is your typical fuckboy disguised in bohemian garb. He would have really thrived in present-day Bushwick.
Ever notice how Jack constantly calls Rose out for a being a bitch, makes her jealous of his hot Paris prostitutes, and conveniently gets it in by day four? We get that they were distracted by the iceberg after their really classy car tryst, but we promise he wasn’t THAT into her after she gave it up. Take this post-coital exchange, right before the iceberg hits:
Rose: When the ship docks, I’m getting off with you.
Jack: This is crazy.
Rose: I know. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I trust it. *Cue making out*
See how he doesn’t really answer because he never actually invited her to come? SHADY.
Take this other example of his undying shadiness, even as he’s about to literally die.
Rose: I love you, Jack.
Jack: Don’t you do that, don’t say your goodbyes. Not yet, do you understand me?
Jack’s body temperature is probs rounding 50 at this point, and he’s still beating around the bush. Kind of an inspiration to the fuckboy cause that he remained this committed even in the face of death, but also like, no. If Jack had somehow miraculously survived, delusional-ass Rose would’ve been on the chase for years. The bro was 20, for fuck’s sake! She was 17! Crazy Cakes also told the guy at the end of the movie that her name was Rose Dawson. Did she really think this was like, a lifetime thing? We’d go so far to say he willingly gave her the door to lay on because he’d rather die than settle down before 30.
Don’t agree? You mad we ruined your favorite romance? Don’t want to believe it? aka shows us what a (boring as fuck) shit show their marriage would’ve been. So when you see again, pay careful attention to Jack’s game. Typical shit from your typical fuckboy on his typical vaca. We’d bet a third class ticket on the Titanic that his dying thoughts on that icy Atlantic night went something like: Fuck, this is some lose-lose shit, it’s either die now or move in for life with a bitch I fucked once on Spring Break. Pop a Xanny, Rose—your heart will go on.